Day by Day
by dizzy4
Summary: Mamoru is a man shaped by pessimism and doubt. All this changes with the arrival of a sweet, yet fiesty student. MU updated 090105
1. Strange Dreams

Disclaimer: Sailor Moon and its affiliates belong to the brilliant Naoko Takeuchi, who's work I have admired obsessively and loyally. Please don't sue; I'm only 16.  
  
* Quick note please; the story seems rather grim at first, but if you have not yet left, leave your mark, and the tale will unravel. *  
  
Caught between the pessimism and sadistic philosophies of his time, Mamoru finds his outlook changing ever so slightly with the introduction of a feisty, sweet tempered student. Takes place during the 50's. Below is a teaser. 5-10 reviews are needed for each chapter to be posted; I hate to do this, but there are far to many readers who refuse the author's somewhat pleasant demands for recognition. My ego needs the boost. Thank you all.  
  
Awaken by screaming Of children by night Their fathers have left them Their souls died of fright. Leave to society, The fault is their own. And now, forever more The children are alone.  
-Excerpt from my diary  
  
Day to Day  
  
Have you ever felt so, hopeless? As if life isn't worth all the stress and all the work? There is no avoidance of death. All that has been fought for with such valance is disposed unto the next generation. Yet, there are still those who continue the battles; every sunrise is the mark of a new mission- to escape and save the world, or at least the people of the world.  
I am neither selfless, nor heroic. To me, each morning brings the dread of consciousness, the irritating gap between sleep. I am not a pessimist, or suicidal. I am a realist. I blink unflinchingly at whatever the universe feels like throwing my way, flip the bird in thanks and continue on my merry track.  
Do you know what it is that irritates me the most? The pretences. The phoney, silicone facades people apply every day. "Look at me!" they cry. "Look at my house! My car! My 2.5 children and white picket fence! I am living the dream!!"  
A dream? No, More so a nightmare. Bright candied walls, blinding photographs; all the masks can't keep the shadows at bay. The shadows always find a way through. Nothing can beat darkness, not even the light.  
Sometimes, I think I'm the only one in existence who's gotten it all figured out; life has nothing to do with living. It has everything to do with surviving. That is why I find myself locked behind these metal confines. I dared to remain, to go where the labelled graze.  
Liberation does not exist; it is an illusion created by our minds, intent on giving some deep and important and profound "raison d'être". It is the root on what we base our most valid of archetypes. These great messiah's saved humanity from all its faults.  
There is no saviour. Life will be forever flawed. The deep sense of raging hopelessness won't ever disappear. These facts are a part of ourselves; the part we all choose to hide and no amount of reasoning or justification will ever erase this.  
The sun has dared to rise, its blinding rays burning deep into my eyes. Another day has come- unwelcome, unwanted and utterly useless. The cool metal nips my skin as I slide the window shut. Enveloping myself within the depths of branded black cow hide, my books jump into my arms and I stride to my cells door. Go forth and conquer, the words of a great leader whispers through my mind. Five minutes down, 23 hours and 55 minutes to go. 


	2. Caught in Confines: The Role of Teaching

Disclaimer: Sailor Moon does not belong (in any way shape or form) to me. This story is a fictitious tale using the characters created by Naoko Takeuchi. She has capital, I do not, go forth and read.  
  
Caught in Confines; The Role of Teaching  
  
"Jones, Tabitha." Ignoring the duty of role call, the blubbering teen flounced flamboyantly in her seat, giggling stupidly at the complete ridicule that was the opposite sex. Tensing my jaw, I cursed the misfortune of my career.  
  
"I want my work to mean something; I want to educate young minds, expand the universe through the next generation." foolish words spoken by a foolish man.  
  
Whatever the reasoning behind it all, here I stood (or rather, sat) amidst the incomprehensible minds of the young and fault filled. Clearing my throat, I made another, more effort filled attempt.  
  
"Miss Jones, if girls such as yourself spent more time reading up on history instead of repeating historical stereotypes, the world would have fewer issues with noise pollution." Catching her attention, the pony-tailed blond pouted unattractively and slid indecently into her seat. The rest of the seniors snickered silently at her misfortune and it was all I could do to not to strangle them all.  
  
Leafing through the rest of the named sheets, I slid my slim, metal-framed spectacles onto my face. My eyes reflected back, shadowing my youthful age behind a mask of pessimism. Thick strands of black drifted over my vision and I raked them lazily back into place. Heaving a heavy sigh, I continued the dreaded attendance.  
  
"Now, can anyone tell me some of Darwin's' theories and how they correlate with the Christian belief as stated in Genesis?" I glanced back to a sea of dead stares. Somewhere, the faintest palpations of life must have existed, but for the life of me, the students seem to have reverted to primordial soup.  
  
Rubbing my temples, I called a name; "Ami; name one of Darwin's theories." The dark haired girl jerked from her reverie and glanced nervously around. Opening her mouth, I awaited her whisperings of knowledge.  
  
"Survival of the fittest," she garbled. Though I generally tended to ignore the female race as a rule, I found it astounding that amongst the throng of clattering birdbrains, there could exist one who valued the importance of knowledge. Smiling in satisfaction, I nodded.  
  
"Good. Darwin's main point centers on the truth that those with not only the will but also the strength to survive would live and pass on their genes while the weaker creatures would die out. For example-" A quiet rapping silenced my lecture. Rolling my eyes in a juvenile manner, I dropped my arms to my sides and glanced at the door. The students who reclined so conveniently during the 'discussion' sprang back to life at the prospect of a disruption. Signaling complete silence on their part, I strode to the entrance and opened it slowly.  
  
Peeking on the other side was an unfamiliar face. Standing exceptionally small and just over five feet was another parasite sent to my care. She lifted her head slowly and I gasped.  
  
Sky blue revealed from beneath thick black lashes, contrasting greatly with the pallor of her marble complexion. She was indeed a sight to be craved. Fidgeting nervously under my gaze, she reached up with a shaky hand and offered me a folded note.  
  
"Mr. Kensington told me to give this to you." she brushed the longish bangs from her eyes and rubbed her hands anxiously over her woolen skirt. I stared at her for a moment, sadistically enjoying her torturous position: a new student.  
  
She blinked, confusedly and pointed at me. "You are mister Shields, aren't you?" Again, I said nothing. Instead, I spun around and returned to the class. Unsure whether or not to follow she took a tentive step forward, then another and another. Her Mary Jane's resounded around the classroom as curious faces peered at her. Even with my back turned to her, I could feel the heat from her blush warming my back.  
  
Deciding the girl had suffered long enough I nodded. "Go on then, traditional introductions are in order now, I suppose." Furrowing her brow in an air-headed fashion, she turned and faced her audience. Clasping both hands together, she wrung both fingers apprehensively.  
  
"Umm, hello.my name is Bunny. I moved here recently with my parent's and brother." I raised an eyebrow. Nuclear family? Bred to destroy then. She paused and turned to me again, searching for direction.  
  
"This is the time someone graciously offers their own friendly acquaintance so that class may be resumed."  
  
"What's with the nerdy hairstyle?" came a gentlemanly reply. The girl shot her hand up to the twin buns that sat symmetrically on her head. I looked back at her, watching as she traced the long strands that hung from each ball. Fully expecting a spectacle of waterworks as the underbred sniggered along with his clan, I was about to begin the distribution of detention slips. Fortunately for the young ignoramus, the new girl giggled foolishly.  
  
"They are a little odd, aren't they? They seem to suit me, much like your chipmunk cut." The un mindful jock's jaw dropped, blood rushing from the tip of his collar to the roots of his boy scout trim. His lips curled contemptuously, revealing a pair of bucked teeth. The laughter ceased immediately and a quiet glaze seeped over the populous. Even I found myself staring in awe. Who would have guessed a spitfire in that form?  
  
"Bunny, was it?" a voice proclaimed. Jolting back to reality, I watched as Rei stood, motioning to an empty desk at her side. "Why don't you come sit by me?" Bunny grinned appreciatively and bounded over to her new friend. Cute. A narcissist and a feminist; this was beginning to sound like another idiotic universal joke. I for one was not amused. Walking back to the board, I quickly jotted some numbers.  
  
"Since none of you seem able to do voluntary reading of the subject, dictation will once again rule supreme." Narrowing my eyes at the unlikely new pair, I directed the last of my message to them. " Pages 25 through 60, all questions complete." The ring of the bell censored their grumbles and I could not help but grin as Bunny and the others sent evil curses my way. Perhaps I really was a sadist; what a revelation.  
  
The atmosphere before me was that of a bar, in its dirtiest and most grunge filled form. Smoke curled its way around every object, its sensuous flavor dancing temptingly out of reach. Extending my hand forward, I accepted the frosted glass of released inhibitions and downed the sour liquid in a deep gulp.  
  
"Take it easy there Darien; you have to work tomorrow." Ignoring the preaching of my equally diluted comrade, I slid my glass down the wooden surface and specified my order. It zoomed back to me rather unexpectedly, the amber substance sloshing messily over the handle. Grabbing it greedily, I lifted the second serving of sin into my system. "Your body's going to hate you for this later." I nodded appreciatively.  
  
"Thanks for the warning." Punching my arm lightly, he struck a disgusted face, soon replaced by a more amiable mask.  
  
"So how's the teaching going? Must be weird teaching kids so close to your age." I grinned. Accepting another pour from the kind server, I looked pointedly at my friend's naïveté.  
  
"It's not age that makes the difference, it's intelligence." Taking in another large gulp, I continued. "We may have less then a decade between us as our tombstones will graciously proclaim, but we're eons apart when it comes to thinking." Andrew merely shook his head.  
  
"Bullshit." At that, we both laughed. Warm memories of childhood banters and teenage angst flooded through me. There are few things one can count on, and a good friend ranks high on the list.  
  
"So, does your warden know you're out?" I asked, referring to his longtime partner, Rita. Another foul face befell him.  
  
"Honestly Darien. Must you always speak of women in such a way? This is the 20th century after all. Times are changing-"  
  
"Yes, yes, so I hear from the raging feminists. Speaking of which, a new student came today." Andrew shook his head, most likely pitying whoever had been subjected to my humor. "Poor thing; tiny kid from prominent nuclears," He acquiesced, acknowledging he knew what it was that I meant. "She was shaking like a leaf!"  
  
"I really pity your students you know." I chuckled.  
  
"Oh, but this one, she was something to see. Firecracker in wolves clothing.put Perry Mason's boy right in his place!" Jovial laughter erupted from us both. The familiar buzz of alcohol danced around my mind, making the conversation all the more enjoyable. In the corner of my mind came a sober thought; this girl, this 'Bunny' would certainly prove as a viable opponent. Before I had even time to argue this point, it disappeared as the drug took hold.  
  
Yes, chapter two. Rather long and eventful, if I do say to myself. I prefer keeping AN to the end of a story, so those who don't want to read them don't have to. I would really like to thank my three glorious reviewers:  
  
Usako4life-  
Yes, I thought it was funny too. Have you ever seen 'Pleasentville'? It started me on this whole fifties craze thing. Besides; the music was just swell! (I'm not even being sarcastic: P)  
  
Baby Daydreamer Wiley-  
Aww, I'm really glad you like it, and I am sorry for the long delay (what, a few months? Whoops!) Lucky for you, I'm posting the second and third chapter now to make up for it!  
  
Critic3-  
I would really like to thank you for you critique; I realize now the prologue didn't really reveal much about the plot and characters, though the reason I put it up was just sort of a basis for readers to see how jaded and sadistic Darien is. Hopefully, the following chapters will reach your expectations!  
  
Also, I sort of switched the names to the English version, simply because I wanted to do America's 50' instead of Japan's (otherwise I'd have to research.yada yada) Sorry if there was any confusion. Darien is quite a chauvinist right now, but I assure you there's reason for it and will be explained throughout the story. 


	3. Violent Intervention

Disclaimer: The magnificent Naoko Takeuchi who so graciously permits her fans to taste the wonder of her manga world owns Sailor Moon. Kudos, Senorita.  
  
Violent Intervention  
  
Before the reasoning of daybreak could enter into the minds of the unconscious, I found myself resolutely behind my desk. Infallible as ever, the paperwork had managed to flourish into a mountainous pile, one that teemed threateningly toward the floor. My mind merely mocked my present situation; it's your own fault, you know. If you'd only done it last night.  
  
A steaming liquid silenced my its ramblings, the irritating pulsations within my skull becoming more and more diminutive as caffeine took hold. Yawning with boredom, I leaned over the marvelous contraption on which I was perched, its yellowed back yielding to my sudden weight. Throwing my head back, I glanced at the time.  
  
" Seven-o-Five," announced my echo, sounding strangely garbled. Amazingly, the reason behind my present predicament revealed itself as my memory replayed the events of yesterday: speaking to the principal, his instructions to meet with the parents of the newest delinquent, in hopes that a friendly camaraderie might ignite.  
  
Shaking my head resolutely, I stood from my seat and stretched. Just as my muscles began to forgive me for the trespasses of the past night, a knock, once more, interrupted me.  
  
"Mr. Shields?" a jolly voice sounded through the sleek wood of the door. Grabbing my suit jacket, I managed to slip it on quickly, resonating my ever present confidence; sometimes cruel, rarely kind, but always charming.  
  
"Come in." A fairly tall man entered through the door, his height rivaling my own. The reflection of his sheen jet-black hair was enhanced by globs of gel, all meant to keep it pulled tight and neat. Thick, brown glasses sat upon his bridge and he was dressed in the image of corporate journalism.  
  
Close to his side was a woman, his wife in all likelihood. She herself was also quite tall; reaching less then an inch below her husband in flat, white shoes. I was reminded of an image of complete homeliness, her long black hair held taunt by a wispy scarf and a flowery dress billowing around her calf's.  
  
Her gloved hands held tightly to the hand of a twelve-year old version of her husband, save the hindering spectacles and a crown of chestnut brown in place of black. The look on his face spelled utter defiance, and I could not help but grin in recognition.  
  
Finally, the last of the herd stepped in more shy then the rest. I recognized her instantly as Bunny; the outlandish child with a hairstyle and attitude to match. Glancing up, she froze under my glare and it took all my self-control to stop my eyes from rolling at the absurdity of it all.  
  
"Well, why don't we all take a seat then. Am I correct in assuming that you are Bunny's parents?" I refrained from their familial title, noting the airhead had forgotten that portion of her introduction earlier.  
  
"Yes, yes, quite right." Extending his hand, the man grinned briskly. "Kenji Tsukino. This is my wife Irene and our son Samuel." He pointed to the woman and child. "You've already met Bunny yesterday, isn't that right?" I nodded.  
  
"Tsukino? Sounds Japanese," I trailed, the rabbit-child stepping foreword defensively.  
  
"That's because it is." Her eyes hardened, as if daring me to combat. Choosing silence over violence, I looked back to her father, now noting the smooth curvature of his eyes, the rounded nose and definitive facial structure. Though that detail had escaped me before, I now saw a taste of the orient reflected in both children, though the wife still looked supremely Caucasian.  
  
I was sure they expected me to harden my mannerisms toward them however I had no such intention. Though the wounds of the war are still fresh in the minds of us all, I believe myself to be among the few who understand that it is never one nation completely at fault during war. In wars, there are no innocents.  
  
"I've always wanted to go, to the Orient that is. Both its culture and philosophies have been great interests of mine for a number of years." Breaking the tension with a smile, I motioned to the seats before us. "Now, shall we discuss what we are here to discuss, or would you like to wait for the arrival of the other students. I must warn you, it is most difficult to articulate amongst their chatter." Mr. Kenji laughed appreciatively while the mother reprimanded her two children for the faces the sent my way.  
  
"Due to the seriousness of his accusations, Darwin's works are often mocked and altogether ignored by the mass populace. This is all due to the incriminations against biblical events." My breath caught itself in my throat, excitement coursing through my veins.  
  
After Ami finished her reading, the classroom seemed to delve into a deep tension, each person's unsure whether to speak or stay silent.  
  
"Exactly, perfectly stated Ami!" My eyes roamed the faces, some nodding in approval, others completely disgusted by the accusation. " Who else agrees with Ami, and who doesn't, show of hands." No one moved. I grew agitated. " Oh, come now, its only a census. Surely one of you must hold SOME opinion?"  
  
As if sensing my desperation, Bunny looked up pensively (an expression I never thought to see on her face) before lifting her hand carefully.  
  
Unwilling to miss this chance, I pounced upon her before her mind could change. Perhaps I would finally be ably to produce a discussion! Oh, glorious morn!  
  
"Yes! You with the meatballs, speak up!" She glared at me wanly, her eyes drawing together in a contemptuous huff.  
  
"My name is Bunny, Mr. Shields." Ignoring me completely, she turned and nodded her head at the dark haired genius. "I agree with Ami. My belief is that the bible explanations of past events were written and recorded by minds that have neither the technology nor the societal advancements that we do. Its importance was placed on a pedestal so, so deeply implanted in tradition and culture that now it is un seeable for many to part with old ideals and welcome in new dogma's.  
'Scientifically speaking, the process of evolution and survival of the fittest makes sense, and this scares a lot of people."  
  
She paused, her mouth searching for words that would best present her case. "As history shows, misunderstanding leads to fear and hate and wars off all kinds." A few of the students seemed taken aback by her words, though scoffs resounded from several lips.  
  
"Proof?" her eyes widened suddenly and swept across the room, mentally enumerating the support. "Persecution of the black and Jew and the non white and now, the scientist."  
  
When no one spoke, a fearful look swept across her features. The entire class seemed suspended by the bluntness of her opinions. This was the type of discussion I'd been dreaming of since my first days as professor, though I would have never guessed the topic to be raised by the seemingly meek teen.  
  
"Bullshit!" My attention leapt off her and onto Tom Mason, the chipmunk jock who now shook expressively with anger.  
  
"What was that you just said Mr. Mason?" He did not back down.  
  
"You heard, crock o' bullshit!" He rose from his seat with such force the top of his desk nearly ripped off. My eyes narrowed coolly,  
  
"As you are well aware, MR. Mason, everyone is entitled to an opinion in this classroom if expressed with intelligence and foundation. There is nothing intelligent about your barnyard tongue, and I will ask you only this once never to say that in my presence again. Sit down." Tabitha suddenly stood.  
  
"He's right Mr. Shields. How can you let her say all that dirt 'bout God and punish one of US when we stand up to it?" I could feel the headache from this morning return as several other jocks stood up, voicing their approvals.  
  
Glancing over to where Bunny sat, I noticed anxiousness present in her features although, to her credit, she refused to back down.  
  
"I didn't mean any offence by it, and I'm sorry if you feel offended." Tabitha gave a smirk of triumph.  
  
"You take it back, then?" Bunny blinked alarmed. She looked over to Ami, who now was shriveled so deep inside of her textbook that only a top hair peeked over. Turning back to the smirking girl, she shook her head.  
  
"Of course not. I stand firmly behind my words." The flippant blond jerked mid-track. By this time, Tom had made his way to the desk of the newcomer. Before I was able to process his actions, he had her grabbed by the shoulders, a look of pure murder on his face.  
  
"TAKE IT BACK!" he shouted. Within seconds, I had closed the distant between the attacked and myself.  
  
"I told you ONCE, Mason to SIT DOWN!" I grabbed from behind, holding his head in a full nelson. He struggled fervently, but had to choice but to drop the girl. She landed on the floor, shocked and frozen in a prone position.  
  
Rei flew from her seat; realizing the true intensity of the situation dragged her shaking body to the opposing wall.  
  
"LET ME GO!" he raged. I increased the pressure, angling his body painfully. By this time, the desks had all emptied, students, racing to either side of the walls, watching timidly. The screams and cries of the female students attracted the attention of Perry Mason, fellow football coach and reverend.  
  
"What in tarnation is goin' on here?!" he roared. "Leggo my boy Shields." I did not relinquish my hold.  
  
"Are you done now Tom, huh? The anger out of you now?" His thrashing subdued in the presence of his father.  
  
Letting him go, I pushed him so he stumbled toward the Coach. "You take him to the office. Tell Principal Kensington that he is suspended for the rest of the week. Tell him he tried to attack a fellow student, a fellow female student. Tell him that when he returns, he can expect at least a months worth of detention."  
  
The Coach looked at me, startled, then saw the shaking girl huddled against Rei. His doubtful mask ripped back to anger as he grabbed the panting teen by his ear, lifted him and pulled him quietly from the class.  
  
I stayed for a moment, watching their retreating forms, recovering from the sudden surge of adrenaline. Feeling angrier then I knew why, I called the class back to order.  
  
" Homework; Five pages of lines titled 'I am entitled to my own opinions as others are entitled to their own thoughts.' Everyone, no exceptions. Each page will by signed by a parent and returned to me not later then 8 am tomorrow. Any one, and I do mean anyone," I inclined my head specifically to Tabitha. "Who does not hand it in by that specific time will join Mr. Mason in detention. Get out."  
  
The silence of the class was not broken as they trudged out minutes before the clang of the lunchtime bell. Three students dawdled behind; the feminist, the genius and the shaking blond.  
  
"Mrs. Tsukino," she jumped at my appelle. "Would you stay behind for a moment? I would like to speak to you for a moment." It took a minute for her to process the command, though she nodded slowly.  
  
The two girls left her side cautiously, promising to meet her outside when we were through.  
  
"Come forth then," I nodded to the seat before me. She stood, her legs shaky extensions of her body. Stepping slowly, I could feel her remaining discomfort. She sat before me with slow deliberate movements. The clock ticked loudly, and neither of us spoke.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Shields, I- I didn't think-"  
  
"No you didn't," I cut her more sharply then I intended. Again, she jumped, and then resolved to sit, cerulean orbs concentrating intensely on the papers before me. "As you so quaintly put it, religion is more important to people than most else. People fight and hate and die for it. People kill for it." I gazed at her pointedly. "People's beliefs are always held closest to their hearts. By questioning that, you make them question their existence, the response met consequently violent in opposition."  
  
"That doesn't make his reaction okay! That doesn't make it okay for ANYONE to strike out j-just because there are difference of opinions!" she seemed to focus her anger through the pile, and I feared she might singe them ever so slightly.  
  
"Still, you must understand not everyone can separate objective from subjective." She leaned back in her chair; face still flustered and crossed her arms, reflecting a very angry Buddha. "Know for next time that if you are to say an point, you must be capable of dealing with the repercussions."  
  
I took a brief pause, quite enjoying her visible restraint. "I won't always be there to solve your spats, clear?" She glared my way.  
  
"Is that all?" contempt laced each word, making them even more delicious to accept. Grinning pleasantly, I nodded to the door.  
  
"Enjoy your lunch."  
  
Hope you all like it! The next chapter should be up in a week or too, and things really 'heat up' when Bunny meets her new tutor.(gee, I wonder who that'll be? Golly!) 


	4. Morbid Interpretation

Morbid Interpretation

Staring from behind the shadowed glass, it was possible still to distinguish figure from figure and person from person. Though the sun had long since set and even the most dedicated of drinkers had left, I found myself still filled with an insurmountable amount of anxiety though I could scarcely hold myself upright. The mind may an incredible thing, but one's body certainly is not.

"See 'ere sire, I'd like ta' be closin' now if ya' don't mind," the bartender, Frank I believe was his name growled at me from behind his heavy lids. I nodded my head, choosing to ignore his broken grammar and fragmented English- it's best to leave the brawny be, especially when the mere notion of movement provides inspiration for sudden projectile vomit.

With his steady (but rough) hands I soon found the rough gravel of the frozen street my new friend. Sarcastically, I mocked the children I taught, the farce of leading young minds to the future while my own lost steadfast its power. But, as it became evident my body was in no physical inclination to follow my lead, all thoughts focused on slowing the world and raising myself.

Yet another enthusiastic night.

"The civil war was fought under two primary sides; the Yankees, or the North side of the States and the Patriots from the south. The major cause for rivalry was due to the…"

"Abolitionist law announced by the current president, yes, etc etc," I sighed resting my pounding head against my palm. The class emitted a small chuckle, clearly grateful for any annoyance after last week's confrontation. "Ms Jones," I proceeded. "When this essay was assigned two weeks prior, were you not given ample time to choose not only the subject, but also research and type?" Her sickeningly white grin vanished.

"What?" Eyes running over her paper, she frowned in confusion.

"If I'd wanted to know how 'The History of the Civil War- 1945 James Town Edition' interpreted both the war and its participants I would have simply had you all read its glorious four-hundred pages." Good, I thought to myself- she's speechless. "What I'd asked for was your view of the events, not what was written by ancient scholars in a time before your own literacy was discovered." Her jaw looked as though it might drop from her face and I rubbed my eyes cringing at their sensitivity.

The rest of the class seemed to share her reaction and even my star pupil, as though there truly was such a thing, seemed shocked by my conclusion. "Seeing as we have only a few minutes left, I give you all this warning that you may take whatever precautions necessary within the next 24 hours so that you too do not suffer the same zero Ms. Jones has just been awarded." Narrowing my gaze, I traveled over the murderous faces of each student. "There is no wisdom gained from facsimile. If you are given something to right, you best be sure it is your own work." The bell screamed, and I smiled sweetly. "Enjoy your lunch."

Turning to the dark chalkboard in the room, I stared proudly at the work before me. It seemed like no one cared anymore of the past- as though it was some cluster of obsolete events, things that could not be held in relation to anything from the now.

Snapping me from my vague thoughts was the sound of a cough. I rolled my eyes. It was not a real cough, but the shy imitation of one who has something to say, albeit unimportant for they are unable to call attention to themselves properly. To add further insult;

"Uh, Mister Shields? I was told to see you after class today?" The voice was high and sweet and immediately I recognized it as my newest addition. I cocked my head and turned just enough to have her in my view. Her hair was spun in the same ridiculous style as ever and it couldn't help but strike me as somewhat dependable. Her face was drawn in a nervous frown and her cheeks glistened with a natural flush, likely caused more by nervousness than anything. My cheeks twitched at this thought- that I could inspire such an effect.

"Yes, Bunny- no you may not have an extension." She jolted as though not expecting my reaction and I leaned back, closed my eyes and grinned. "Close the door on your way out." But there were no footsteps, no swinging of hinges and least of all the merry sounds of the hallway. Opening my eyes I saw her standing there still, yet now she bore a seething gaze and her face seemed to redden by the moment. Her mouth opened and a million gracious words seemed to want to tumble from her lips.

"Actually, SIRE," she stressed, bug-eyed in a comic attempt to appear threatening. "I was told by the office to see you after class." And thrusting a free hand from under her books, she dropped a crumpled note onto the desk. I stared at her for a moment, enjoying her frazzled state and slowly leaned foreword to read the scrawled message.

I frowned. This was ridiculous. Looking up at her, I found her to be wearing the same irritating smirk I had just moments ago in my grasp.

"So…"I trailed, "I'm to be your- tutor?" She shrugged, flippantly tossing her hair from her shoulder.

"As I wasn't born here, the Principle agreed, along with my parents, that I should need some extra help in learning about this wonderful country," her tongue slick with sarcasm, she continued. "And who better they decided then the most accomplished staff to assist?" Oh, this was too much. As she spilled the remainder of the tale, clearly enjoying the discomfort it caused me, another plan formed itself in the twisted depths of my mind. "So you see, Mr. Shields, why I won't be handing in the essay tomorrow." I kept her gaze and nodded pleasantly. Oh, this was too easy.

"Well then meatball-head, I suppose we shall be seeing more of one another, won't we?" reaching out, I ruffled her hair, almost ecstatic for my brilliance. Walking to the door, I turned with enough time to catch her flabbergasted. "Lessons begin tomorrow morning at six a.m.," I paused. "Don't be late."

_Long wait, no excuse except for extended writer's block. On a positive note, I am cutting off any global relations so the next couple of days should prove quite productive. Not much happened but I decided the actual tutorial might deserve some extra loving care- so it receives its very own chapter! Will Darien realize he feels more than animosity for our favorite heroin? What could possibly go wrong with a 6 am appointment? And when a sudden disaster strikes, who will be there to comfort and support? Though you might already know these answers, read on to find out how!_


	5. Lesson Number 1: Tricky Equations

_Okay, so lovely space of time again. Thankfully, my wonderfully talented cousin loves this fic, so I am more motivated to have it finished shortly. Hopefully, the next post will include more than one chapter. Hopefully this wasn't too short- I thought it was cute._

_Gezi- I agree. I didn't realize they all had similar speech patterns. I'll be sure to pay that more mind for future chapters. Thanks for the review and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

_All comments and criticism welcome (nothing too mean people!) And I hope you read more from me! At the next posting. Happy September._

Lesson Number One: Tricky Equations

The clock still hung from its impenetrable height, still ticking but growing louder and louder with each second that passed. Was I irritated? No. It was only five thirty- I had fallen asleep at my desk after late-night grading. Ignoring a pathetic groan, I leaned into the groove formed inadvertently by my slumber. On either side, towering like mythological creatures from books I'd read as a child were yester night's endeavors, ready to be sent out and perhaps reward me with a holiday advance.

Craning my head skywards I blinked sleep from my eyes, reveling in their brief closure and allowed my head brief rest against the hard wood of the oaken chair.

"Mister Shields?" a knock- inside my head a knock. My eyes flew open and in a bursting moment of pain light penetrated into the deepest depths of my cornea. In response, my body half catapulted itself from where it had been so comfortably at rest and in my moment of weakness panic set in as the vision of a petite blond appeared from nowhere. "We, uh, had a tutorial today…" she trailed and glanced around, somewhat confusedly as though she herself hadn't a clue where she was or how she'd gotten here. Sensing awkwardness, I blinked to reality and glanced at the clock.

"You're late," I said flatly before standing. Striding to the window, I flicked them open, allowing some morning light into the darkened office. She yawned in response and reposed lazily into a front row desk. I frowned. "Did you at least bring your textbook?" Oh the drunken myriad as she pulled with extraneous effort a paperbound package, newly packaged and deposited it heavily on my desk. My hand hovered over my forehead, feeling heat emanating like it does for those who have not reached the necessary sleep quota. "Right, then let's get started," and I reseated myself across from her. The textbook stared up at me, its pages smooth and glossy and unstained by human hands. Opening it, the index showed me everything I needed to know- where the equations hid, how to solve algebraic problems- I felt slightly giddy at the thought of mathematics. There was nothing simpler in the world. "I assume you've studied permutable combinations?"

Her eyes gazed sleepily to me, darkened as her lashes draped them. They closed in an extended blink and reopened as blank as before. "Well?" I asked once more.

"I think we were doing parables…" I rolled my eyes.

"Parabolas?" She shivered, straightened her posture and blinked hard.

"That's what I'd said," her words flowed like whiny streams. Her very demeanor only increased my irritability.

"Well, Miss Tsukino. Perhaps you would prefer to return home, to that down filled bed of yours until such a time you are prepared to work at your studies." Suddenly, she seemed snapped awake, her eyes wide in terror.

"No! No, I'm sorry Mister Shields I am paying attention…" A smirk cocked my lips as I recalled the motivational fear parents always seemed able to implement on the young.

"Right then, let's begin where'd you'd left off. Algebraic equations are defined as…"

A half hour had passed in complete silence. With only minutes left of our tutorial, I was amazed at how quickly time had gone. Though proficient in arguments and points, her intellect seemed to fail miserably at any mathematical property. It was as though, after the introduction of long division her brain shut down, barred its doors and placed a threatening 'no entry!' sign. Currently, her blond hair glistened as she slouched over a sheet of scribbles, still working on our first equation and growing increasingly agitated with each second. Finally, she slammed down her pencil and groaned. Snatching the paper in her tiny grip, she shoved the messy inscriptions before me. Scrunching her face cutely, she cried,

"This is the answer, it has to be…" there was a panic in her voice, and her cheeks were flushed adding to the wild look in her eyes. Slowly and deliberately, I removed the paper from her and glanced it over: and grimaced. Her mouth widened. "No," she hissed. Her hand dropped and her face fell into impervious anger as though somehow her inefficiencies were my fault. "You're lying! I did the whole equation! I double-checked! I backtracked!" Collapsing on her desk, a sound akin to the pitiful wail of an animal caught in a trap left her lips, though her body now seemed deflated.

"Yes, you did, that's true." Picking a red pen from the surface of the desk, I pointed to the question. "But all that was being asked was to find and determine the variable." Her head lifted slowly, glaring incredulously my way.

"That's what I did!" I shook my head. Her pathetic display was guiltily humorous. I held my chuckle.

"No. You fractioned the equation." I pointed to her many scribbles and notes. Circling the primary equation (2y+3+1/35) I underlined the Y. Then, in two simple steps, I reversed the equation. Just as her brain began self-destruction, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the day. In the hallways I suddenly heard the hooves of troops that had passed previously unnoticed. Looking back to the exasperated girl (who currently sat in attempts of destroying the textbook by sight), I felt the urge to offer some form of condolence. Sighing exasperatingly, I added "well, we'll pick it up from here tomorrow. It was only the first day."

Dragging herself from the bureau, she stretched her arms overhead, releasing the morning tension of academics, and I noticed that though she was petite, her body seemed toned, as though from sport.

"Golly gee," she muttered as she retrieved her bag. "I certainly can't wait." And she turned toward the door, her oversized skirt floating around her legs, cardigan pulled tight and mumbling insanely to herself.

"Meatball head," She spun, her face red with embarrassment and anger, and raised a brow. Lifting the heavy book from my desk, I grinned. "Don't forget your text. You might find it necessary when practicing pages 201-215 tonight." Her jaw dropped and a cruel joy spread to my eyes. "I deeply advise using your study period efficiently." Stalking towards me, her lips pulled sourly into a frown, her hair framing it all like some work of Picasso, she snatched the book, her whole body dropping a little under its weight.

"Thanks piles, MR. Shields," she stressed the title and we both knew what she truly meant. "I'll be sure to do just that." A stressed- and slightly insane- smile stretched across her marble skin. As she was almost out the door, I called again.

"Oh, Bunny," she winced at her name. "I'll be sure to see you here and on time for Social Studies." She continued without pausing out the door, her only retort was its loud slam into the metal frame. The commotion outside settled slowly as the clock ticked shortly passed eight o'clock and I too noticed my first class was late. Settling into the tough wooden chair, my eyes fell shut and for a moment, a brief time before the first student ran in late from homeroom, something warm awoke within.


End file.
